


Survivor

by orphan_account



Category: Batman and Robin (Comics)
Genre: Dark, Evil, F/M, Rape, Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 16:54:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In attempt to take down the bat, Poison Ivy gets his sidekick in her clutches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Survivor

He wasn't sure what happened, exactly. But now he knows that his head feels dulled and his eyes are hazy. Are they even open? No, but they're struggling to lift apart. 

His hands feel bound, but he can't be sure. All of his senses feel like a truck is sitting on them. Resisting against his bindings, his eyes finally flutter open. 

Across from him, where he now realizes he's bound to a mental patient table, is Pamela Isley (AKA Poison Ivy) with her lab coat facing him. He continues to pull at his bindings, which through dulled vision he now has deduced are vines, but he finds no release. He does successfully attract her attention.

She drops her glasses on the glass chemistry table and spins abruptly to face him. "Well, well, well..." She trails off, stroking a streak in her long, auburn hair. 

"Letting me go will make things easier for you," he claims through slurred words.

She ignored his plea and proceeds to approach him. Looking around, he notices that he's naked aside from his mask – which he faintly feels on his face. She is too, aside from her dainty lab coat. 

Struggling to choke out, "What's the deal here?" He let's his tired muscles relax involuntarily.

She continues to silently study him. Then, without warning, she places a hand on his chest. "What's this scar from?" She asks, pointing to a lengthy jagged mark three inches above his right nipple.

Finding it hard to lie, he answers, "When I first started," pause, "Harvey Dent taught me a tough lesson about goofing off on the job. He had a knife and then that happened."

"Mmm," she moans, almost sympathetically. "The ones on your back?" She'd noticed them when she tied him up – a stretch of burn patterns on his spine. 

"They're Chinese symbols that were branded on me when I completed training."

"What do they mean?" She asks.

He swallows and struggles to keep his eyes open, "They're your greatest strengths. Agility, Intelligence, Heart."

Curious, she asks, "Does Batman have these marks too?" 

"Yes," he answers curtly, "They're Strength, Will, and Honor. He has one extra, which isn't allowed, but it's Guardian. He's deserving of a bunch more but rules are rules and he doesn't break them often."

She smiles faintly at his hero worship complex, but then goes back to an evil grin. "Do you know why you're here?"

He holds up a finger from bound hands, "I've pieced together that it's about Batman. You probably got together with the other crooks and decided to hurt him where it counts – me."

She slow claps, "Good work, detective. Does that earn you a new scar?"

He laughs sleepily. "You're still going to lose. You always do."

She burns red. "You're wrong! Oh how you mock me now!" She screams and huffs. 

He can't think of a quippy response in time. She's just brushed her hair out of her face and is now roughly groping him. 

"What-" he struggles, "Stop."

She doesn't. She keeps touching him. He struggles as much as he can against his bindings. 

"Please," he whispers. Her left hand gets fiercer, but on the other hand, her nails dig into the flesh of his abdomen. "Ahh," he groans, painfully weak.

She tries to roughly coax him into a reluctant erection, so she begins moving faster. His indomitable will is weak with whatever she's drugged him with, so it's not that much more work before her wish is granted. 

"Please, stop," he says faintly and tries to reason.

She spits on him. Then again. Blood drips from his torso like a faulty shower head. 

He closes his eyes and tries to think, but comes up empty. Nothing in his head makes sense and he can't formulate an escape plan. 

She's unbuttoned her lab coat enough for him to see everything, but he looks away to the window. He hopes his mentor will crash in anytime now; but he doesn't. Batman doesn't get there in time. 

She keeps stroking him like an animal until she's pleased with herself. He gives up begging her to stop eventually. 

She kicks back the table he's on and climbs atop him. He feels extra vines dig into his wrists, drawing blood while she tries to draw semen. 

Tears form in the lenses of his mask, but they dry and he tightens up. His thoughts come back because she got careless. She got wrapped up in herself too much and forgot to re-drug him. Now his thoughts are clearer. He can tell she's enjoying herself in an evil way above him. He can tell that his body is a bruised and bloody mess. He knows she's nowhere near done with him. Most importantly, he knows where she's hiding his equipment.

In the reflection of her discarded glasses, he sees his gear piled up behind an otherwise opaque cabinet. But all too soon, she's finished again and she's slapping him, then confusing him, with drug-laced nails. 

Next, she climbs to his face. 

He can still tell she's gorgeous. Her legs are long and her female regions are highly prominent. Her nipples are olive green and her strong, curly hair is crisp auburn red. She's wearing decorative vines around her body. He always assumed it was jewelry. He can also tell she doesn't get out of her lab much by the way she's enjoying riding across his face. 

His senses fade back in after another hour, so he begins thinking about his vine bindings. VINEdings, if you will. 

He knows his face is immensely wet and his mask is nearly soiled with her sexual fluids, but he can think again, so he makes the most of it. 

Every time she feels pain or panic, her defenses drop for a second. If he can-

Slap. Confusion. Disorientation. More grinding. More bleeding.

She goes back to his lap and begins bucking again. His whole body is dulled and tense at the same time, but he can't fully register why or how. 

Again, time passes. He's groaning in agony from all the lashes and tightly gripping thorns. He doesn't waste time in biting her wetness when she brings it to him again. Her plants loosen for a brief moment and he sits up quickly.

She slaps at him, but he's already grabbed a nearby medical platter to block it with. Still, the sheer force knocks him off the table and to the dirty green-tinted tile floor.

He groggily pushes himself up and turns to find her in his slowly focusing gaze. She's outside the range of his easing tunnel vision, so he breaks for his equipment. 

All he can grab is a gauntlet, but it's the left one – meaning it has his WayneTech arm pad computer. He gets enough time to turn it on, but not enough to attempt further escape. She's standing behind him with a pipe – knocking him to the ground unconscious.

Fragments of vision come in and out. He sees her above him again. He sees her window shattering. He sees nothing for a moment. Then he sees Bruce; not Batman. The cowl is gone. Then his bindings are too. He loses consciousness again. 

It wasn't supposed to go down this way. He wasn't supposed to lose his virtue at sixteen. But nothing can be done now, can it? 

He was right, by the way. She did lose. They all did. It may have weakened Batman for a second, but he got really pissed off after that. There wasn't much else to say about the 'Ivy Incident' other than that it was a moment they wouldn't soon forget. 

And when the eighteen year old Barbara Gordon heard, she freaked out – threatening to kill Poison Ivy herself. Batman talked her down, however.

Nothing about this job was safe, but that's what made it what it is. Sometime in the future, Gotham will find justice. Just not now. That's why they fight; that's why they endure; and that's why they get back up when they fall. And eventually, he wakes up in the searing palace of Wayne Manor with a fourth scorched accolade branded on his skin – Survivor.


End file.
